My name is Vabok Tosidbasen. I am a farmer. I am also the current leader of the Post of Taming, the expedition that was sent to "tame" this accursed tundra... Well, the tundra is actually benign, but it didn't seem any warmer because of that.
But I digress.
It's been, I think, five years since last time I saw the surface. I remember the day of our descent, the miners, may their souls rest in peace, have finished carving a way down to the caves we now live in. These moist rocks have everything in abundance... including deadly beasts, and now, foolish dwarves as well. Our proud military escorters promptly died to a cave ogre the very same day.
It all doesn't matter anymore. We are sealed. Seven dwarves, all that remains of twenty-something who dared settle here. Our world has been shrunk to this small cave, with Likot slowly digging tunnels around, careful not to open our secluded haven to the dangers of the outside. So far he found clay up there and magma down there, and he claims to have seen deposits of galena and sphalerite. Five others, including my husband Asob, are building their experience with their obsidian swords and bloodthorn shields, for the forthcoming time of our emergence.
For now, my farm is the only thing keeping us alive. We had three ducks, but they have by this time died of old age. No drake. Blame same cave ogres. It does't matter, the caves will provide. Until we are many, many more...